TBD
by Leonessa Ivanovna
Summary: To wander lost is not a pleasant thing.
1. Welcome to Beacon Beckons

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

Rat glared at the darkening sky. At first they had been told they were luckily. The few, the elite. Rat grumbled under his breath. He now knew where they could shove their elite. Right up their –

"RAT!" The man's head snapped up. This was hell. Pure hell. Standing in the rain for three hours. For delivery of an…assassin! A freaking assassin! Beacon Beckons was not the place where the government shipped off their nut cases. Well sometimes…there were stories…

Suddenly there was a roar on an engine. Not surprising, it was hard to hear over the pounding rain. Slowly it lumbered into view. A nondescript white van. Rat saw another recruit shake his head. Rat silently agreed. The driver was going to have a hell of a time getting down the hill. It lumbered to a stop. Quickly the driver and passenger got out. Rat shook his head. M-16? (1) They had to be joking. They didn't need this kind of firepower to cover one man. The driver slowly approached the back, hunched in the rain. The suit didn't help protect him at all. As he pulled up a small ring of keys, there was a thump. Something inside that hit the left side of the van, rocking it slightly. Rat felt the first stirrings of fear.

"Get them out!" the other suit shouted.

Rat realized that this was were they came in. Quickly they, W-Unit and T-Unit, surrounded the van. The driver walked up to the back and unlocked it. Rat saw he was shaking. _What the hell could be in there?_ The door snapped open, caching the other suit in the side of the head. Rat herd an awful crunch, and the man was down. The door hung open. Rat shifted the grip on his weapon. He was nervous, and not the only one. Suddenly a third suit flew out the back of the van and landed in the mud, still. There were a few more thumps, and someone fell, no threw, himself or herself out of the van. The person landed next to the suit. Rat thought it _was_ another suit, until they stood up. That thought was instantly disbanded. They were male, that was obvious. But the rest was a mystery. The man was coved in mud, obscuring any feature. The fact that he was not a suit was easy. First, he was handcuffed. Second, suits don't, under any circumstance, throw each other out of vans. Thirdly, he didn't _act_ like a suit. He was not a puppet, and, worst, _shit_, a recruit's worst nightmare. He was deadly, and he didn't care who he killed.

Rat shifted slightly to the right. Actually, he barley moved his foot. But that didn't matter. Snapping around, the killer looked at Rat. The assassin's attention was focused on _him_. _Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Don't mess this up. Sergeant will have you head…_

Rat cleared his throat. "Put your hands up!"

The man looked at him. Then he slowly raised his hands above his head. Inwardly, Rat sighed. _Good, he must have seen it was hopeless._ Four men shifted forward to restrain the assassin. He stood there, hanging his head, and Rat let a little sorry from him. Sure he was a _killer,_ but Beacon Beckons sucked. And being stuck here indefinitely wasn't to bright a prospect.

There was a soft grunt. And two of his men were on the ground. The assassin launched himself towards the man next to Rat. The recruit was down in a second. Rat couldn't tell if he was unconscious. Or worse. The killer turned toward Rat. Rat found himself facing empty, cold eyes. Rat tried to defend himself, but it was hopeless. His conscious thought was, _I messed this up._

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_(1) an M-16 semi-automatic machine gun. just some info, i will use the gun's names. I can just say, "Oh, look, there is a gun." But that is lame. The end_


	2. Files

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

The Sergeant sat in his chair. This was supposed to be any easy job. _But, _he reminded himself, _when was MI6 ever honest._ The assassin had be captured with, minimal, damage. The luckily suit who got hit by the door was dead. MI6 was not happy about that. Still, they had to understand. The person they transported was a killer! He would a least _try_ to escape. His men were fine. That's what really counted. Rat, sadly, would be out of duty for a while. And even then, he might not be coming back. The injuries were bad. Thinking of this, the sergeant glared at the assassin. The man looked levelly back. There was a yellowish file on the desk. It was not as important as the paper the sergeant now held in his hands. He scanned it quickly. The more he read the worse he felt. The assassin spent 6 weeks under MI6's basement and still didn't talk. And MI6 thought that the SAS could do any better.

"We're supposed to make you talk. Honestly, if they can't do it, I don't see how we can. You will have the same treatment as anyone else. You will have no evaluation. You may talk. You may not. I don't care either way. Seeing how I can't bin you, I can make you life hell. Is that clear?" The sergeant didn't yell. He had no need to. The assassin understood.

"Yes, sir."

The sergeant froze. The man talked. Worse, he responded like a solder. And that manet he and been one at some time. And had thrown it all away.

"You will be staying with a tempory Unit for two days. Then you will be assined to a permant unit. Your permanent uint has already been given your file. I understand you are inroled in some courses with us. You will take them, and you will not be late. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Dismissed"


	3. Hike

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_Rain, rain go away. come again another day. Obviously, this had never been head in Beacon Beckons. otherwise, it might have been a nice crisp fall day. In Yorkshire. But not here._Hare was huddled in a pathetic excuse for a hut, an extra bunk shoved against the wall. A killer sharing the same room. What if they **were**killed? After all, wasn't that his job. _THEY would probity call it collateral damage. _the rest of the unit was huddled miserly on their bunks. they were leaving in two days. _No, only one, if today counted._Hare hoped it did. The assassin had arrived right after breakfast. He had been there went three units had been pulled form the mess, sent down to the white van. Only five people came back, all from diffidentunits. It had been a sorry sight. There was a pounding at the door. Wearily, Hare got up to get it. A soldier stood there, dripping. Someone was shoved inside. Before he could make out any fetures, the assassin slid into the shadows of the hut, slient.

"He'll just stay in here today. You can continue your schedule for today. Tomorrow you will leave on a two day hike, and when you come back, you will leave." Slamming the door, the soldier left.

The assassin stood. Hare sighed.

"Not much of a talker?"

In response, he got a piece of paper.

Hare looked at it.

проваливай. (1)

* * *

"...Not willing to talk. May have basic military training. (_But that could be faked,_ Hare thought_, if you watch any army movie, all they say is 'Yes, sir') _There is nothing in records that you are allowed to see."

It was the day of the hike. Hare and his unit, and leech assassin, were packed and ready. The subject of conversation stood in the back of the room, not moving. It was annoying. Hare hadn't seen him so much as blink, much less eat, or sleep. And now they knew, as did the assassin, that there were no records his current unit could see.

"Dimissed"

"Yes, sir."

This time, the assassin didn't speak. _Wonder why,_ Hare thought. But he shrugged. Wasn't his problem. They grabbed their bags and left.

* * *

Hare hated the assassin. sure, it was an easy hike. but even the most uptight soldier would grumble a little. it was a hike! this was where you _could_ complain. Nope, not a word from the killer. _Mabie he has no tounge. that would be gross. How would he eat?_ Hare shook his head. He would deal with it. Not his problem. He'd find out more tonight, over dinner. Hopefully.

* * *

(1) проваливай= Piss Off! Isn't good to know your Russian!


	4. Soggy Dinner and Cold Nightmares

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional. I do not own Baker Street or anyone that lives there. Sadly

* * *

The assassin looked at his food with disgust. MREs(1) are bad at the best of times, but now it was beyond words. The killer poked his re-revived meat. His mashed potatoes were flaky, and he was pritty sure that carrots did not have crunchy bits. He threw down his knife. Not that it would have done much good as a weapon. The meat was so hard he could probably just beat the unit to death with it. He stood up a slipped inside his tent.

* * *

_The boy sat on the hard laminated floor. His whole backside ached from sitting so long. But he would endure hours, days, of this, if they only would let his friend go. His friend had done nothing, was innocent! His friend was just a child, like him. But being tied to a chair, being made an example to all. That was no child's job. To sit there and know you are going to die, that is no job for a child either. The boy's hands clenched into fists. No one should be treated this way. He glared at the madman, who thought he was helping the world. But couldn't he see? He was hurting them. Children sobbed. They had no right to come here! To come to a school and scare them! The boy stood up. He was sure he was going to be shot. He he didn't care. But the shots never came. The madman wanted him to come closer. The boy stepped forward, students letting him through. A teacher had stood awhile, hours?, ago, and the body was still lying on the floor. no one seemed to move. The boy walked calmly toward his friend. When did it come to this? This insanity? A boy standing up to a man with a gun, because adults couldn't do it. The boy stood in front of his friend, his best friend. The came up behind the boy. He felt it. The boy spun quickly, attacking with fists, kicks, and blow he could land. _

_Then suddenly the boy had the upper had. He was in a_ _strange position. His left hand supported the man's head, thumb digging into the ear canal. His right hand was in a much different position. His right pinky was jabbing into the man's eye; thumb hooked under the man's jaw. The boy had no idea how his hands did that. But what happened next, he was sure, was out of his control. He hoped. His right hand pulled up as his left hand pushed away. It was simple. Pull and twist, then...Snap. The man's neck broke, the sound of the snapping spinal column echoing around the room. The boy dropped the man's body and stumbled over to his friend. _

_"I'm sorry." The boy whispered._

_"No..My fault...I talked...failed....you....so...sorry..." The boy's friend, only friend, dropped his head onto his chest. and the boy knew his friend would move no more._

_"No!" The boy screamed. He bowed his head and sobbed. _

_Then he head the sirens. He stood on shaky legs and ran toward the door. He ran by the school complex, the red brick and green grass blurring into smudges of colour. He reached the lot and slipped, landing hard on the black pavement. With a cry he stood up. He was drained, weary. _

_But worst of all, he was empty._

* * *

(1) MREs-'Meals Ready to Eat', 'Meals Ready to Expell', 'Meals Rejected by Ethopia'


	5. Steps and Battles

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional. I do not own Baker Street or anyone that lives there. Sadly

* * *

Sun light filtered through the trees, waking Hare up. He yawned, stretched leisurely, and causally checked his watch. He rubbed his eyes and stretched again, knocking into his tent mate.

"What time is it?" The other man mumbled.

"'Bout five minutes before six." He responded.

"Ugh." The man rolled over. Then he shot into a sitting position. "Wait, what time was that again?"

"Shit! We're late!" Hare shoved his way out of the tent.

The other tent was just across the clearing they had used as a campsite. Hare looked around, checking the items.

_Cooking stuff, packs, tents, umm... one tent I'll need to carry, Bear can carry the other. _He did a double take. The assassin's tent was gone. Hare counted all the stuff again. Everything the assassin had taken up with him, and a few extras, were missing. _What the hell..._

Hare quickly woke up the rest of his unit. They were late, the assassin was missing, and to top it all of, Hare had thought it would be a pleasant day. The whole unit was packed within five minutes; twenty faster than it had taken them yesterday.

"What are we going to do about the leech?"

"Leave him here?"

"Not an option, what if he escapes?"

"Top priority my ass..."

"So we'll leave him?"

"Sure, I bet his survived worse than being lost in the woods."

""What if we get back to camp…?"

"Make something up! We need to leave now!"

The pissed unit started jogging down the path, not noticing when a shadowy figure slipped behind them, as they were too busy arguing to pay attention.

* * *

The soft constant slapping of feet reminded the assassin of another time, not following a childish unit, but running for his life...

_Slap-slap, slap-slap. Get-away, get-away. He ran on, the rain driving into his back. Cold, so cold, so empty, so tired. Pushing on. Slap-slap, slap-slap, slap-slap, slap-slap, slap-slap, slap-slap. He felt so tired. He had be running for what could have possibly been hours, trying to get away... from who? What? He couldn't say. The grey street blurred with the grey buildings with the grey sky. Like running down a grey tunnel, with no light at the end. He felt trapped in this in-between state, so relief flooded through him when he saw the lone streetlight, shining brightly. He ran up to it, panting, and placed his hands on the cold, slippery, almost slimy metal, and rested. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head on the pole, and focused on breathing. That was how they found him. Four men, drunk and in high sprits. They staggered up to the boy. He looked up sharply, having smelt them as they lurched towards him. He pressed his back against the pole, trying not to make a sound. If they came near..._

_"Sonny! What aren't you home?"_

_Silence._

_"Not much of a talker are you? Where do you live?"_

_The boy glared at him. The man became frustrated. _

_He slapped the boy across the face. "TALK DAMN IT!"_

_The boy shrank back._

_The man grabbed the boy around the throat. "I'll wring it out of you!"_

_The boy kicked hard, and the man's knee gave. He fell to the street, howling. A fist shot out of the dark, hitting the boy deep into the gut. He bent over with a groan. Suddenly a foot lashed forward, connecting with the boy's still bent head. He dropped to the ground. A pair of hands grabbed him. He was shoved up against the pole. _

_"What's wrong? No fight left in you?" A sneering face leaned in. The boy's head snapped up, connecting with the man's face. The broken nose went strait through the nasal cavity, entering through the front of the man's brain. But no one knew it at the time. He dropped to the ground with a thud. _

_"You little brat! Not done yet?"_

_The boy was trying desperately to escape, to get away from the pole, the light. He dodged the knife that had appeared out of the dark. The third, no fourth drunk appeared. His hands were balled into fists. Where was the knife? It didn't matter. The boy ran for the man, hitting him in a tackle. The man went down hard. Too hard. His head cracked off the pavement. The boy stood up on shaky legs. He was spent, weary. Suddenly there was a whoop of a siren. He turned and dashed... right into a mountain of a man. The boy fell back, the breath knocked out of him. He sat there in a puddle. The man above him slowly raised a knife. Sitting, the boy braced his hands on the wet pavement, nails digging into the grit. He tensed. When the man swung his am, the boy dove out of the way. The man staggered forward a few steps, still showing signs of his pleasant night. Shakily the boy got to his feet, prepared to run. The whoops got closer. And they were coming from behind him. He dashed forward and the blade hissed through the air. Pale hands shot forward. The boy held the man's wrist, still running. There was an awful pop, followed by a worse tearing sound. The man screamed. Again the boy's hands took over. The man was behind him on his right side. Planting his right foot he pivoted, ramming the stolen blade deep into the base of the man's skull. Blood gushed out, pouring over the boy's hands. With a sob, he stumbled back. The whooping was closer now. The boy took off down the street. He dove into an alley. He found a garbage can, half full with filthy water. Thrusting his hands in, the boy scrubbed feverishly. After a few seconds he gave up, and not checking to see if he was clean, he stumbled off. Sleep was the only thing on his mind. He didn't think about school, his friend, and the two, three, possibly four dead men he had left in the glow of a street-light. His feet took him to a park, a group of trees. Slowly he climbed, not noticing the cuts he gained along the way up. When he reached a good spot to stop, he did. He leaned his head back against the tree. Closing his eyes, he started to drift off. Wait, he had to check. Slowly he raised his hands. They were covered in blood. But this time it was his own._


	6. Questions and No Answers

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

NOTE: Sorry I was missing for 4 days! My friend was in the hospital. She's good now, and is comming home!

* * *

_Two Hours after Hare's Unit left for the hike:_

The Sergent looked at his men. MI6 had dragged his best out of combat, where they were needed!, to watch the assassin. Needless to say, he was furious. T-Unit, E-Unit, and K-Unit looked up from their chairs. Despite his protests, MI6 refused to supply K-Unit with another member, claiming it would throw off the balance of the unit's team work. Bullshit. They just didn't want to go through paper-work. The Sergent sighed.

"K-Unit, you were requested to shadow the assassin at all times. This means he will eat, sleep and work with you. "

Instantly there were protests. The Sergent wasn't surprised.

Snake was first. "Are we guarantied any safety? How do we know he won't kill us?"

Then Eagle spoke up. "Have you seen his shooting?" He waived the file for emphasis. "He is a better shot then Ibex. And we don't even how he was trained."

"There is no physical description, no family background." Wolf growled. "What's the point of this? Send him under MI6. They will have him talking in minuets!"

The Sergent rubbed his face. This was too much. If MI6 have no more then four words after six weeks what chance did they have? None.

He looked each solider strait in the eye. "He spent a little over a month 'under MI6' and they only got four words, and not the ones they wanted. MI6 wants to wait this one out, wear him down. I don't think this will ever work." He paused, so his next words would have affect. "There is another side. MI6 had an agent that train with K-Unit." They looked openly confused. "He was captured by a terrorist group, and held for interrogation. Then for no reason, they let him go. MI6 thinks the assassin might know why the group so quickly changed their minds."

"Was MI6 going to get him out?"

"I'm not sure. They won't tell me. Becase of the unique situation surrounding the agent, and his falures in the therapy they've been working on him..."

"Poor basted." Eagle interjected

"...He will also stay with K-Unit."

As the Sergent expected, there was an uproar.

* * *

The assassin was yanked put of his day dream by a branch slapping him across the face. He let out a muffled curse. Hare's unit spun around. At another time, it would have been funny. But the killer didn't laugh at much these days. Before the questions of his mysterious disappearance could start, the killer started to jog back to base. He didn't really care if the others followed.

When the unit finally arrived, they were late.

"Y-Unit!You have ten minuets to be in the truck. Move!"

Hare stated to run toward the unit's hut. Suddenly he stopped. He truned and looked at the assassin, standing alone. Hare couldn't smother the feeling of pity for the man. He opened his moth to say something. But what could he say? Nothing. Hare started running again.

* * *

Snake and Wolf watched in silence. Eagle had been pacing for the better part of two hours.

"...and why do we have to? 'Serve our country!' We had made some difference in Iraq, but here..." He trailed off angrily.

Snake stood up and crossed to the door.

Wolf looked at him, and Eagle paused for a second. "Where are you going?"

"Well, I'm from Scotland. I'm going back to Iraq."

Eagle frowned. "Do we know anything about the killer? The file must have something in it."

Wolf tossed the slim file to Eagle, "Here."

Flicking through it, Eagle resumed grumbling. "No background, schooling, physical features..." Suddenly he froze. With a shaking hand Eagle held up three pages. "Look at this."

Wolf tore the pages from Eagle's hand and scanned it. He let out a shudder.

Snake grunted irritably. "For God's sake, just read it!"

Wolf cleared his throat, "Week One: Various medical treatments. No effect. Pain-inducers. No effect. The..."

Snake cut him off. "No effect? Or no response?"

Wolf shrugged and handed the sheet over to the medic.

The more the man read, the more pronounced his frown became. "Some of this, is...well, not legal, in the way they used it."

Wolf snorted, "MI6 is above laws if their not caught."

Eagle nodded his agreement. He looked at Wolf. "What else?"

"Um... here. Week Two through Three and a half: Food and sleep deprivation coupled with halucationgentic meds." Wolf scanned the paper a cringed. "Week Four through Six. Various physical methods...and there's a list, from lest to most severe."

Snake looked concerned. "What was the wost?"

Wlof checked. "96 hours of constant whipping..."

"96?" Eagle roared. "Four days? That's torture!"

"Eagle," Snake pointed out, "This is an assassin."

"Still, that is a bit harsh." Wolf looked worried. "And right after that they send him here."

"Any recovery?"

"As you said Snake. 'This is a killer.'"

"Well," Eagle sighed. "The agent is coming, when, tomorrow? He can answer some questions. The assassin saved his ass, maybe they know each other?"

Snake shrugged. "Maybe it was just a coincidence. They might have never met each other."

The three brooded over this. The assassin was coming in an hour. Then they would find some answers.


	7. Choices

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

NOTE: Sorry I was missing for 4 days! My friend was in the hospital. She's good now, and is coming home!

* * *

The Sergent looked at the agent in front of him. The man was hurt, but not broken. and probably thanks to the assassin. But why? The Sergent looked at the scarred face. What connection did those two have, if any at all? He had spoken with Mrs. Jones earlier. Even she thought it was a long shot. But it was the only shot they had

* * *

The assassin sat on his bunk. his few possessions had been neatly stored. Not that there was much. Just a set of boxers and a book. The SAS even owned his toothbrush! The assassin leaned back in his bunk and shut his eyes. K-Unit was eating dinner, and would come back to find him. He had already read his file. If you could call it that. Just a list of the kindness of MI6. An all expenses paid trip to London. He knew taking the Turkestan job was a bad idea. But it payed well. He rubbed his eyes. Had to stay alert. He pulled out his book and began to read.

* * *

Eagle saw him first. The mess hall doors had opened, and someone slipped through. Eagle kicked Snake under the table. Wolf looked up too. The man walked, no limped forward. He had been tortured. That was evident. but when the man saw K-Unit, his face broke into a grin. In the silence, the scape of the chair was very loud. But Wolf didn't care. He helped the man into the seat, and Eagle pushed his food toward the man. The man nodded his thanks. Snake looked concerned, but smiled too.

"How are you?"

The man looked at Snake, and saw the smile slip. but the man continued anyway. "Fine. I've felt better."

"How did you get out?" Eagle want to kick Wolf for being rude, but honestly, he was also wondering.

"Well, I'm sure you head, someone made a deal." The man paused, and his eyes had a far away look.

"I never met him. If he spoke I would know his voice in an instant. They deal was supposedly a good one."

Eagle became inpatient. "What the hell was it? Money?"

The man shook his head "Time."

Eagle was about to interrupt again, but received a vicious kick. So he nodded, encouraging the man to go on.

"The deal was apparently the best the assassin had made to this, group, you could say. Not organised enough to be a real terrorist threat." The man closed his eyes. "They were a threat. Well, MI6 though so. It was supposed to be simple. Severance. Get in, get names, get the hell out. But I got caught. Overconfident. It was my last day, I would be leaving on one of the group's assents, get caught by MI5, given to MI6, killed, and then the group would be taken down. Apparently SIS had been working for almost a year on this. and I ruined it." He paused for a drink of water. "After I finished packing, I was called into the head's office. I should have seen it coming. They captured me easy enough."

He saw Eagle's confused expression. "Drugged tea."

Wolf looked angry. "How could you have not seen that coming?"

"I already told you. I became overconfident in my ability. I don't have the luck of the devil, but I thought I was good. After they drugged me, I woke in a cell. At first they didn't feed me. When that didn't wok, they used other means. After three months, I was done. But I held on. MI6 would get me out. After two more months, I had reached a decision. I would tell them what they wanted. So when the guard came in i was ready to talk. but then the head came in. He was happy. Ecstatic would not be an understatement. He said 'We have received an arrangement we can not refuse. So you may go.' then someone else spoke. 'That was not our agreement.' and the head froze. I mean the assassin was not even in the room, and the head was scared of him. The head looked nervous 'Of course.' Then he turned to me. 'We will give you medical attention and sent you back to MI6.' Then I head a safety come off. The head licked his lips and said, 'And we will not harm you in any way.'"

The agnet shook is head. "I mean, the assassin had the head wrapped around his finger. I got patched up and shipped back to MI6, with £12,000 for compaction."

"And you don't know who it is?"

"No, but Mrs. Jones said..."

Suddenly a solider burst into the hall.

"Fire!"

Wolf jumped up and shoved his way to the door. People were panicking. God, this was an SAS camp. They were supposed to be in control. He finally reacted the door.

He grabbed the man. "Where is it?"

"D-Unit." the man gasped out.

Wolf pushed him and started to run to the hut. It shone brightly. There was a bright flash of light, and Wolf was thrown to the ground. He looked over.

"The medic center!"

"Anyone inside?"

"Move him!"

what the hell was going on? The agent appeared next to him.

"What do we do now?"

The man looked at him and opened his mouth.

There was another explosion. A hut leaped into the air.

The agent tuned to him.

"We wait."

* * *

The assassin ran. He had started the fire at the unit's hut. It was relatively simple. A lighter sat on the first bunk by the door. Wasn't smoking bad for you health? The assassin grinned. Then a shudder rolled through the ground. What the hell? He looked back. The hut was still burning, but the soldiers were running toward the medical lodge. There was a bright flash and the assassin shaded hie eyes. A section of the Sergent's office was in flames. The assassin stood frozen for a second. He could see the fence, just a few yards away. With this distraction, he could run. But he would be blamed for the explosions. He had never been an enemy of a country. And he had no intention of starting now. He raced back to the mess hall.

* * *

Eagle pulled Snake b the arm. Together they raced toward the Sergent's office. They burst inside. quickly they searched the rooms. They stepped through a door, to find themselves dragged back. They crouched on the floor. A wave of heat went over them.

Snake looked up. Smoke was everywhere. Ir was hard to see and it stung his eyes. "What do we do?"

Eagle tried to stand up, but someone dragged him down. Eagle hid the floor hard, then relaxed. Snake groaned inwardly. He was unconscious. Snake looked at the third member of their party. The man made a gesture. It obvious. Get out. Now. Snake dragged Eagle toward the exit. Snake kicked open the door. and staggered outside. He gasped and felt hands pull him away.

"Move out of the way1 It's going to explode!"

Snake looked at the men surrounding him. "Some...someone...their...inside...helped.." He gestured weakly towards Eagle.

He felt faint. He took a step forward, then a force sent him stumbling forward. He struggled to stand. Wolf was suddenly next to him. "Snake it's fine. No one was inside."

* * *

K-Unit sat silently on their bunks. The assassin was having a meeting with the Sergent, and it wasn't going well. They could hear him shouting, but no responce. Eventually they had been ushered away.

Now they sat in dejected silence. The agent nervously tapped his fingers on the side of his bunk. Wolf looked at him, but didn't comment. They knew he was nervous, and didn't try to stop him. Eagle moodily started to toss a ball with Snake. Wolf sighed.

"Honestly, how much longer does it take to be debriefed?"

"Well Wolf, if you are accused of blowing up three buildings of government property and committing arson to another, it might take awhile to sort things out." Snake glared at the man.

"Do you think it was him?" Eagle joined the conversation eagerly.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"No."

The men looked at the agent, lying on his bunk.

"Why not?" Wolf snapped. "He's an assassin. He kills people."

"Exactly. No one died. And he even help Snake and Eagle. So it wasn't him."

Snake nodded at the agent's logic. "He even stopped us from entering a room that exploded."

"So?" Wolf roared. "He knew which room the explosion was in. how did he know? He planted thye bombs."

They were quite as thery head scraping outside of the hut. The door knob slowy turned.

The agent bolted up.

The assassin stepped calmly into the room.

"Why did you make that deal?"

To Wolf's immense surprise, the killer answered.

"You took a bullet for me. I was in you dept."

The agent looked furious. "I never took a bullet for a killer."

The assassin crossed the room, standing in front of the agent. "Yes, you did. Ben."

"When?"

"Dragon Nine."


	8. The mess

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional. I do not own Baker Street or anyone that lives there. Sadly

* * *

Snake was angry. After the assassin spoke to Ben, it was obvious the two had met. But now the assassin didn't speak at all. Luckily, Ben was happy to pick up the slack.

"So, we're going to the mess hall? Rider, do you think they'd be happy to see you?"

Wolf looked at Fox. "So, his name is Rider?"

Fox nodded. "Yep. Alex Rider."

"Hump." Eagle glared at the killer. "Another unofficial member..."

Fox stopped walking. He looked at Rider. "They don't know who you are?"

All he got in response was a glare.

Fox turned toward the rest of K-Unit. "You have no idea." His face paled.

Eagle interpreted. "Yes, we have no idea who the hell he is. Frankly, I don't care. Let's eat." He shoved open the doors to the mess hall.

* * *

The room instantly quited when K-Unit steeped into the room. Then the whispering started.

"K-Unit's back?"

"Remember Cub? Now they have a killer."

"Shitty luck."

"Does the killer talk?"

"Maybe he'll give me a lesson?"

Wolf shook his head. He didn't know that solider gossiped like old mother hens. It was amusing, to say the least.

The strange unit quickly stepped up tothe food line. The whole mess hall watched them.

Snake shifted uncoferablely. "Don't they have better things to look at."

The assassin stared at the man for a second.

Eagle smirked. "Nope. I'm beautiful."

Wolf grinned. "Have you looked in a mirror lately."

"No. It ran away every time he came near. Probably didn't want to crack."

The assassin cut past the gaping unit and grabbed some food.

"You know, that was petty funny."

Wolf glared at the unnamed solider who was sitting at a table a fet yards away.

"Do you have a death wish?"

"No! Th..that's why I talked to you, and not the assassin."

Snickers spread through the mess. K-Unit quickly grabbed seats at a empty table.

Then the door burst open. In staggered two units. If you could call them that. There was six men. One man from both units had been injured in the explosions the following night. They had bonded together. The combined unit stepped up to the food line.

The goup walked past KUnit's table. A man at the end of the grup paused.

"You." The whole mess hall looked at the man. He pointed at Fox. "Tell me. Where is he?"

Fox looked confused. "Who?"

"The killer." The man clenched his fists. "i want to kill him."

Wolf stood. "Goat. Calm down. Rider didn't do it. If he did, he wouldn't be eating with us."

The man, Goat, scanned the table. He saw the assassin. Goat grabbed him by the back of his uniform and dragged his to his feet.

"I'm going to kill you..."

He was cut off. "Many have tried, and they have all ended up dead. Do you want to take that risk?"

Goat growled. "My man has been injured. He might die. It's your fault."

And there it was. The finger of blame. For a second the assassin was seriously tempted to kill the man. But he reamed calm. He spread open his hands. "We can discusses this in a more private setting."

"No. I want witnesses."

"And you will have them. Just not here. And not now."

"Fine." Goat nodded and turned away.

The assassin backed up a few steps. Eagle watched the whole exchange, confused.

Then Goat spun around, throwing a crippling blow. If it had landed.

Goat moved forward a step, carried by the momentum of his blow. The assassin was standing calmly to the side watching.

"Surely, you can fight better than that?"

Goat glared at the assassin. Quickly he was flanked by his five comrades.

"While this is an impressive tour de force, can you do anything?"

The assassin was swiftly surrounded. Eagle stood, ready to intervene, but Fox pulled him down.

"There is no way he will win." Eagle whispered.

Fox softly disagreed. "I've never seen him in action, but this should be an example to all of us, if what I've hard is true."

The two men turned to watch as the seven fighters squared off. Wolf silently disagreed. The odds were highly agenst the killer's favor.


	9. A battle of wits

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

NOTE: Yep, I am officially insane. I am now writing 2 fanfics of undetermined length at the same time. This one you are reading, and The Case of the Sliver Chain. (It is a Sherlock Holmes crossover, and a bit choppy. I was kind thinking about this fight scene when I typed it...)

* * *

The odds were bad of the assassin. Goat grinned. This would be too easy. No mater what the killer was going to pay. Goat and his men quickly encircled the killer. Goat saw the assassin shift slightly. He let out a chuckle. Shifting a foot won't do him any good. Goat subtly nodded to Deer, who swung his fist. This was going to work.

The assassin sighed. He hated stupid people. Goat nodded to someone behind him. The assassin didn't know what the unknown attacker was going to do. But the best way to avoid a punch? Not be there.

Eagle watched, opened mouthed, as Rider ducked, slightly before Deer punched. There was no way Rider could have known. Unless... he scanned the room. No one was giving the assassin and siginals, and help at all. Eagle quickly turned back to the fight.

Deer stumbled forward, and received a vicious kick to the head, courtesy of Puma. Shit. They were too close. This was over before it started.

Wolf stood up. They had started to fight dirty. the assassin had grabbed Deer and used him as a body shield to block Puma's kick. Wolf still was unsure of the outcome. If there was less people they would fight harder. But they mught panic. Wolf retook his seat. While he wasn't betting, like some soldiers a few tables over, he wanted to see how this played out. They hadn't gotten any entertainment lately.

Goat wached in horror as Deer fell. Puma was soon after. This was not going well. The assassin was turned away. Goat made a desperate choice. He didn't want to loose any more men. He felt behind him, sliding his hand along the table.

Fox watched the fight with a grin plastered on his face. It wasn't going well for ether side. The assassin was taking hits left and right. He even stumbled a few times. But the other side was taking hits too. much harder its. After the assassin had used Deer as a shield, anyone who got knocked out was removed. So now it was four against one. Not much of a difference, but it could go either way.

Snake had moved to a better view, and was now standing on a table with a few other soldiers.

"Look." One pointed.

Goat was sliding his hand across the table.

"Is his going to jump on the assassin?" Another asked.

"No. " Snake felt fear curing is his gut. Goat held the knife. How could they have been so stupid. Goat had said he wanted to kill Rider. Goat inched up behind the defenseless man. Snake opened his mouth to shout.

Goat got in position,. He saw a few solderscoming forward. They knew what he was about to do. It was now or never. Deer caught his eye. He was shaking his head. No. Don't do this. But Goat had no choice. he quickly stepped behind the assassin and raised the blade.


	10. The end of the fight

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

NOTE: Yep, I am officially insane. I am now writing 2 fanfics of undetermined length at the same time. This one you are reading, and The Case of the Sliver Chain. (It is a Sherlock Holmes crossover, and a bit choppy. I was kind thinking about this fight scene when I typed it...)ALSO I have NOT been sending things to my awesome beta b/c I was lazy! I have cheated you, readers, myself, and most of all, my beta. Kudos for her for up running away, or for that matter chasing me around with a knife trying to kill me.

* * *

The assassin felt it. The stillness. The sudden realization that if you did not move right now, you were going to die . The assassin jumped. Not down, but up. Swinging his foot in an arch, it connected with the attacker's head. The killer didn't care if anyone else was there. It was time to end this.

Fox felt his heart jump in his throat. Goat had a knife, and was about to stab Rider, Alex, Cub, in the back… He could not, would not let that happen. He shoved his way forward; ignoring any growls sent his way. Wolf had seen something was wrong, and had started to head towards Eagle, who was standing on the seat shouting. Fox looked behind. Snake was too far away, there was nothing the medic could do. Fox finally shoved his way into the ring the soldiers had formed. He saw the blade descending. Wolf shoved in behind, Eagle trailing . Fox sucked in a deep breath as Cub pivoted, smashing his foot into Goat's head. Fox almost choked. Cub grabbed Goat by the neck, smashing the back of Goat's head on the floor. Then Fox saw  
Cub's knuckles whiten, pulling up Goat's head, ready to repeat the act. Fox shouted as loud as he could.

"Cub! Stop!"

Cub's hand tightened around Goat's neck. The man was struggling to breathe. Then Cub dropped Goat on the floor and stood. Cub looked down at the man. He crouched by the man's head. Fox saw Wolf take a step forward out of the corner of his eye . Then everyone paused when Cub spoke.

"I told you. You had your witnesses, and they saw you for the coward that you are."

Cub stood and shoved his way out of the crowd, and exited the mess hall.


	11. Assembling the clues

Eagle sat with his head between his knees. He felt sick. After the fight, Ibex had gone outside and puked, sickened both by the cowardly way Goat had attacked the assassin, but more so by the assassin's violent reaction. His thoughts were still a mess. How did this happen? Cub was a killer, an assassin? Sure, he was quiet when he came to camp the first time. But he was only there for two weeks, tops. Wolf had told them how Cub had killed a man with a snowmobile, and then made a joke. Wolf apperetly found it funny at the time, But Eagle was sure wolf was haveing doubts. They all were. But that was a one time thing they were told. But then Fox told them about some ASIS job and a tsunami and a weapon called Royal Blue. He'd said that Cub had saved the lives of twenty thousand people that night, by deactivating whatever it was. It was just too much to wrap his head around. A kid spying? Even if he was good, was it worth it? Killing people got to you. Even as a solider. You start to see their faces, think about their families, their jobs, their pet and kids and hopes and dreams…and how you took it away from them. It messed you up. No doubt about it. And to consider it a job? Eagle felt bile rise in his throat. How could he? There had to be some other reason. What had driven him to this – Eagle was sure Cub wouldn't have willingly chosen this as a kid before he even knew the full implications of his choice. After all Cub had been through, did he get any help? Was that why he had become an assassin? Thoughts whirled in more and more complicated circles. Eagle stood up. He was going to find out, even if it killed him .

* * *

The killer sat on his bunk, idly assembling and disassembling a gun he had nicked from the shooting range. It was sad really. How loosely they kept things locked up. Getting in was a pain, but once you got in…you literally had an arsenal at your disposal. The assassin sighed and closed his eyes. He appeared asleep, but his hands were constantly moving. Assemble. Disassemble. Assemble. Disassemble. Assemble. Disassemble.

_Assemble. Disassemble._ _Assemble. Disassemble. The assassin looked up as someone entered the room. The woman was young, pretty, but that had no impact on the killer. He was already hardened to such things._

_"They say you are good at your job."_

_"Yes."_

_"Possibly the best."_

_The assassin did not rise to the bait. He of all people knew the folly of arrogance. He regarded it as a weakness, one only for fools – and those who wished for a quick death. In his business, arrogance was unnecessary, as the kills spoke for themselves._

_"That is possible."_

_"How long have you been at this job?" She crossed the room, running her hand along the wall._

_He glanced at her with a gaze that lacked any emotion, only showing complete disinterest. Emotion was a liability he could ill afford._

_"Six months."_

_She drew back a step. Her lips pulled into a disbelieving sneer_ _. "Then I require no need of your work, you are in no way experienced for this job, this life. You may go."_

_The assassin calmly finished assembling the gun; a Browning Hi-Power P-35. He clicked the safety off._

_"I feel that because I have come all this way, I should at least know what the job is. Do you think that is wise?"_

_He had not looked at the woman through the whole exchange, but he heard her swallow. He smiled inwardly. She was too confident – arrogant even. Perhaps he could teach her the stupidity of appearing stronger than she truly was. It only got you killed._

_"Fine."_

_ Her hand trembled slightly. Just what had she gotten into? _

_"It is simple. There is an industrial clothing plant on the border of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. The leader of the operation must be killed."_

_"Anyone else?"_

_"No."_

_The killer stood and made to leave the room._

_"Wait!" Her tone tried to command him, but the quaver, small as it was, gave her away. He looked the woman right in the eyes, and she flinched back. She was afraid. Good. She did not bother to regain her composure._

_ "Where are you going?"_

_"To kill a man."_

_"It is not that simple."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"It is not that simple to kill a man."_

_"Yes, it is. If you do it for long enough."_

_"You must feel some remorse, some compassion. You must feel some emotion, to but human_ _…"_

_"Must I?" He looked at her with an odd expression, hand resting on the door knob. Was he laughing? No. He was mocking her. "Good day."_


	12. the ugly truth

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

Again, you must all bow-down to my awsome beta! She saved this story more times then I can count! So wolfhuntsmoon, thumbs up! Теперь вы выиграли Леонэсса Ianovna бета награда высшей квалификации мирятся с hyper, глупым и безумным sligtly авторов!

(You have now won the Leonessa Ianovna beta award of superior skill of putting up with hyper, foolish and sligtly insane authors!)

* * *

Wolf stood in front of the entrance of the hut. There was no point in waiting any longer. He shoved open the door. The assassin was sitting on his bunk. Wolf heard a soft clinking sound. What the hell could the man be doing? Wolf walked closer. There, in the _assassin's _hands, was a Glock 28, capable of firing .380 caliber bullets. Wolf just hoped the assassin hadn't managed to get his hands on any ammunition. But he knew if the man was able to get a gun, then he was able to get the rounds to go with it. Wolf sucked in a breath. The gun was small dimensionally, and in weight, but most importantly, it was easily concealed. And it belonged to the SAS.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you..."

"Then don't." The assassin smirked. "I'm sure you have a few questions."

Wolf had many more than a few, but he started with the simplest.

"What should I call you?"

"I don't really care. Names hold no importance to me."

"Alright. I'll call you Cat."

"Fine. Anything else?"

"How old are you?"

"That seems like the kind of question you shouldn't ask people."

"Just answer the question."

" 16. And I'll give you one more free, to be kind ."

Wolf was silent for a second, debating. What would reveal the most? He settled on the one he thought would be the earliest right now.

"How did MI6 catch you?"

"Now," The assassin smiled mockingly . "That is quite a tale. Why don't we wait until the rest of your unit returns?"

Wolf grudgingly agreed. He had a feeling that he had to hear this story to believe it.

* * *

K-Unit gathered inside the hut. It was raining, the sort of rain that seemed to envelop the cabin in its own cocoon. The assassin was reading his book, the tile hidden. Eagle and Snake were playing cards, Wolf was pacing, and Fox was asleep.

"When are you going to tell us?" Wolf exploded. He had waited all afternoon, chafing at the questions buzzing around his head. He needed to hear answers.

"As soon as Fox wakes up. This concerns him as much as you."

Eagle threw his ball at Fox. It bounced off his head, causing him to stir.

"There." Eagle said, sounding pleased. "He's up. You can tal ."

"Alright." The assassin paused. "It started when they attacked my school. I had a price on my head. Apparently it was very high. Scorpia were not involved, but that made it worse. I had no idea who they were. Anyway, they killed some people," here he paused and closed his eyes, but when he opened them they were hard, hard as flint. "I killed the leader and took off. I was on the run for about two months, doing odd jobs to survive. Then I got out of the UK and moved to Spain. From there I traveled west. I did dirty work mostly. Smuggling drugs and weapons. Then I got hired to do a simple job in Germany. It went very wrong, and I had to kill some people. Then I slipped out of there. I was so successful at that, I was hired to kill. It paid very well. This took about four months. Then for six months I just did assassination work for anyone who would pay me. After a few weeks I got wind of a good job on the Russian border. So I headed over there. I did the job, but… differently than my employer wanted."

"What did you do?" Wolf was dreading the answer.

"Well, I was sent to infiltrate a clothing factory, and kill the owner. It would have been simple if it wasn't a trap. I got out by blowing up half the compound. But the way I killed the owner, that was fun ."

Seeing confused glances, the killer continued.

"I started the day like I normally did, acting as security. I did my rounds and slipped in at closing time. I planted a small bomb under the owner's desk and poisoned his decanter of wine. You should always be thorough, after all. Then I went to leave the room. It would have gone perfectly if his daughter hadn't shown up. She was seven, I think…"

"Did you kill her?" the question scared Fox as much as the answer.

"I do not kill children. But she talked. She looked me straight in the eye and said, 'What are you doing here.' And I said, 'Cleaning your father's room.' But then I heard foot steps. So I did the only thing I could. I looked the girl in the eye and said, 'Trust me.'

And I picked her up and ran. By the time I was outside, the whole compound was waiting for me. So I put my gun to her head and said, 'If you move I will kill her.' Then her father stepped forward. I expected him to plead, or cry."

The assassin paused, face inscrutable. Wolf couldn't tell if he was still affected by this or not, but it seemed likely. He was too young to be completely heartless.

"What he did will stay with me for the rest of my life." The killer looked Wolf piercingly in the eyes.

"He shot his daughter. I didn't know why. I ran, still holding her body. I knew it was my fault, so I tried to save her. But it was no use. And now it was a personal issue. The man had killed his own daughter, but more importantly, I told her to trust me and she did. And that got her killed. No one had ever trusted me before. So I blew the compound off the face of the earth, but the man was long gone. So I tracked him. It took me three weeks. I finally frond him on an abandoned train platform. He was going to jump onto the train. Sadly, he was late." The killer smiled briefly. It was a shark's smile, with no warmth in it. "He tried to fight me. You saw how I fought Goat, and you would know it went worse for this man. I wanted to kill him straight off at first, but I chose to draw it out. So I picked the easiest option. As the train came by, I grabbed the man and held his head against the side of the train as it came past. By the time the train left, only half his head was still there. The rest had been shorn off. "

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what my employer's name is. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that the target ends up dead."

"And you killed him."

"Yes."

"So how did MI6 get a hold of you?"

"I went through Italy and heard of something, so I stopped by to check it out. I made some deals and completed them, but I got caught trying to leave for New Zealand."

"That's all?"

"That is all."


	13. Mrs Jones

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

* * *

Surprisingly, K Unit took the news well. If well counts for Wolf looking ill and heading right for bed, Snake dry-heaving outside and Eagle pacing. Again. Fox had been smart and had left for the loo. The assassin decided to stay for a while. Bad idea. Eagle started firing question after question. Soon he was fed up and left the building. After Alex had slipped away, he wondered. Now would be the perfect time to escape. Goat and half the soldiers were in the makeshift medic lodge. Probably plotting ways to bring him down. That amused the killer. Many had tried, planning in much more comfortable rooms, possessing far more money and resources. And they had all failed. Speaking of the makeshift lodge, who was the bomber(1) ? How would have the nerve to blow up a medic lodge and a few other assorted buildings? On government property no less. The assassin slipped past the sergeant's office and headed toward the mess. He wasn't trying to escape. Not yet. The time for that would come. The assassin reached his hands and jumped. With practiced ease he walked across the roof of the mess and crouched on the eve. He knew it was a risky position. If he so much as shifted his weight, he would be seen. He froze and mentally steeled himself, ready for a long night.

* * *

Mrs. Jones was resting in the back seat. She had not seen the boy in over two years. Blunt had told her to simply offer the option to the boy. He also added that the boy probably wouldn't agree. She didn't see the point in pestering him. The boy, after all, had done very well. Six successful missions and three others not categorized as missions. She remembered the second 'non-mission'. She was glad that Alex didn't have the killer instinct. She snuggled sleepily into her seat. Blunt had kept his side of the bargain. Yes, she decided. Leaving Alex Rider alone for a few years was a good idea.

* * *

A car,tipical black with tinted and bullet-resent windows (2), drove through the streets of London, but suddenly made a sharp turn onto M25. Mrs. Jones pounded franticly on the glass divider.

The driver calmly pulled down the widow.

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"To Rider's residence."

"But we passed it! It's on King's Road. Don't tell me you've…"

"So Blunt didn't tell you?" There was no emotion behind the question, but Mrs. Jones saw a flicker of pain in the driver's eyes.

Her voice became a whisper.

"Tell me what?"

The driver cleared his throat. He would try to break this gently. But how? A report -like way. No emotion. It might not go over well. But it would be a clean break, none the less.

"About two years ago there was an attack on Brooklands school. Rider was the target…"

* * *

The Sergeant felt tired. Between the assassin's unorthodox arrival, the explosions, the attack on one of his men, he was utterly spent. Bone -weary. He had heard the term before but never truly understood. And now he wished he never did. Mrs. Jones would arrive any moment. How could he tell her that Rider had become a liability? That he was concerned with his men's safety more than anything else? He sank into his chair. He idly read the file. A sheet of paper that he had not noticed before caught his eye. He scanned it quickly. His face paled as he read the other two behind it. This would be considered war crimes if anyone knew. Did anyone know? He was tried, bone-weary before, but now…Now he was shaken to his core.

* * *

The muscles in the assassin's back protested as he turned his head. They still had not gotten over his whippings. MI6. Look where it had gotten him. He was hiding in plan sight, scared to say what he truly wanted. At first he had worn the cold front as a mask. Then it had started getting stuck on. He remembered the first time it had gotten 'stuck'.

He was helping unload an expensive and dangerous amount of explosives onto a old van that was probably more dangerous than falling into a running jet engine. At first some of the men had been joking around, and the assassin was simply happy to watch. But as time wore on he began to get annoyed.

_"Hurry up!" He snapped._

_"Aw, relax. Nothing bad can happen. No one knows we're here. "_

_Alex felt the mask slip on. _

_"I said hurry up."_

_"So I say we don't. What are you gonna do? Run back to the boss?"_

_"No." The killer's voice was icy. "I will shoot you and leave you and move the equipment that is much more valuable to me. Right now you are very disposable."_

_The man laughed and sat down on a crate. _

_"Kid, I'd like to see you try. You can't hit the broad side of a barn."_

_Alex moved quickly. He whipped out his gun and shot from the hip. The gun was already in its holster before the man fell off the crate._

_"Any other questions?"_

_The men worked silently. And the mask __that Alex wore would not come off for days after._

* * *

Mrs. Jones felt tears run down her face. How had this happened?

* * *

(1) Remember in chapter 7: 'Choices' umm...the medic lodge gets blown up? Yes...Now you remember! Good job! (if not, go back and read the chapter. it will be good for you!)

(2) Nothing is bullet proof. Despite the name, a 'bullet proof' glass can be penatraited. _It might take a few shots though..._


	14. The Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

* * *

**Yes, I see your annoyed glares. Again thank WHM for kicking my arse into gear!**

**

* * *

**

Mrs. Jones leaned her head on the window. This pounding rain made the glass cold, and a mushroom cloud of her breath quickly fogged it up. Using her sleeve, she wiped off the condensation. The sky was dark and foreboding. The sun would rise soon, but now was the perfect time. This was probably why Blunt chose it. No one would be up. And the rain would be perfect cover for the car. No crunch of gravel, no revving engine could be heard. No one had come. And no one would leave.

The bright headlights scythed across the dark. They reflected off the mess hall windows. The car rolled to a stop. After a few moments the engine shut off. The rain hammered down. There was a faint click as the doors automatically unlocked. The back right door swung open, an umbrella appearing in the rain.

Mrs. Jones stepped out quickly. She was sure that she had seen something on the mess hall roof, but the umbrella had blocked her view. Now the roof was empty. She was starting to doubt what she'd seen. After what she had just been told she could be imaging things. She shook her head and ducked into the rain. When she reached the door, a quick glance back showed that the driver was still giving her a pitying look. She quickly steeled herself and stepped into the building.

The sergeant arranged his papers on his desk. Trying to appear busy. The sergeant was sure that the killer would show of his own accord. No reason to wake one of his men for a . . . traitor . He heard a door open, the brief thundering of rain, and the loud bang of an unwilling door being pulled closed. No one could sneak in. The door was an alarm in its own right! There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." His voice was not as gruff as it could have been.

Mrs. Jones entered. They both looked at the other's face, the expressions set and arranged. All signs of weariness and stress were erased. Replaced by smooth business and military closeness, this could have been a meeting, any time, anywhere.

Mrs. Jones smoothly took a seat. The empty chair seemed to be ignored, but both tried to look discreetly at it. A few minutes passed.

"Are you sure he is coming?" The words were not spoken as a challenge.

The sergeant did not respond. He strained his ears, listening for the door. No sound came. He became frustrated. Mrs. Jones picked up on it instantly.

"Are you sure he is coming?"

The sergeant almost snapped back, that yes the killer was coming, give him a second and he would slit your throat .

The knob turned in the door. That was the only warning the man had. It swung smoothly inward.

"I hope I'm not late?" They were spoken so softly they could barely be heard.

Mrs. Jones did not turn.

"Come in."

The assassin slipped in. The sergeant watched, but he heard no sound. No usual thud of boots, the loud sounds of an assembly of men coming to order. Barely a whisper of fabric was heard. If a heater had been on, the killer would have been little more than a ghost. He seated himself in the vacant chair. Mrs. Jones began.

"We need you help…"

She was cut off.

"Are you asking or do I assume I have no choice?"

Mrs. Jones continued without missing a beat. "Scorpia has announced an imminent attack on all the children of London. Even after we reminded them about the failure of Invisible Sword, they assured us that this time it would not fail. They have sent a letter to Canada, the Untied States, Australia, and our Prime Minister. When we reminded them about Invisible Sword, they responded that we no longer had Alex Rider at our disposal." Here she blinked. "Alan said that he had not contacted you in two years. He said that he left you alone. How…how could this happen?" She turned to the killer. "Why did you do this? Answer …"

The pause was tangible. Thick and heavy, the air seemed to crush the sergeant. Why did the boy, man, killer, really do it?

The assassin took a deep breath.

"For the pay."

Mrs. Jones looked like she had been slapped. If there had been any regret, any sorrow in his tone, she would have forgiven Alex. But the coldness, the lack of feeling, stirred a deep well of disgust and haltered she had for those kind of 6 was different. For their country, their queen. Innocence was what they protected. But this killer did none of that. If he had asked for atonement, she would have gladly given it. She would have taken blame for what he had done, the people he had killed. Now, though, she would never look at him the same way again.

The assassin barely spared a glance at Mrs. Jones. What he was more concerned with was Scorpia. Who was in charge? If he knew, he could know how they would go about their job. With flair, or drama, or mystery, or a quick blow and a hasty retreat. He didn't care that it was Scorpia. That part didn't matter. Revenge was distracting, and when acted upon, usually demeaning. Then he mentally cursed. This was a government. No where near the intelligence and security he needed for this kind of job. A few weeks ago, he would have jumped at an opportunity like this. Taking down a major player, solo, any way he wanted. But the lack of pay reduced his enthusiasm, the fact that it was forced upon reduced it to less than nothing. He waited for Mrs. Jones to continue speaking.

"You will attend COBRA tomorrow. I'll send some proper clothes." Mrs. Jones took in his bedraggled appearance. "A haircut will also be in order."

She stood and shook the sergeant's hand. "I hope to see you soon."

With that she left.

The sergeant looked at the killer. "Alright. You will change at 0400. You leave at 0500. Dismissed"

Alex quietly left the office. He had a lot to think over. The matter of operation on the threat...

* * *

_OK! "Word find!" How many times did I mention Alex's name? Winner gets a prize! PM me answers!(it's a cookie! You know you want one! Yummie!)_


	15. Coldness

Disclaimer: You know that I do not own? Da? Good.

AHHH! I uploaded this chappie...but only half showed up. so sorry!

Also:

'Blue is the colour,  
Football is the game,  
We're all together,  
And winning is our game!'

This chapter is longer. So you will enjoy it. And then you will review.

* * *

Alex woke up, the sky still dark and oppressive. He slipped out of his bunk and grabbed a small bag of clothes that had been left on his bunk. Mrs. Jones and left right after the meeting. That annoyed Alex slightly, as he had some questions he wanted answered. But he could wait. He hurried to the WC(1) and got showered and changed in under five minutes. At 0430 he was heading back to his bunk. Quickly he pulled out his book. Etched across in gold was three words. _War and Peace._He smiled grimly, and flipped it casually in his hands. Then he tore off the back cover.

* * *

Four weeks previously a young woman hurried through the street. She was haphazardly pushing a stroller with one hand, and digging through her large bag. While attempting a zebra crossing. A young, newly minted MP saw her a rushed to help. He tapped her on the shoulder.

"Miss?"

She looked up, slightly annoyed and flustered. "What?"

"Do you need any help?"

A smile lit up her face, and the MP could not help thinking that she was attractive. Light brown hair framing brown laughing eyes. "Sure! Could you hold this?" She passed him a small envelope. By that time they had crossed the street safely.

He held it uncertnly in his hand for a second. "Do you just want me to hold it?"

She laughed. "No, silly. Just go drop it in the post box."

He turned and quickly walked toward the post box. He was about to drop it in when he saw it had no stamp. He glanced at the address.

_10 Downing Street_

He turned to over. A small sliver scorpion was stamped onto the back. With shaking hands he looked up. The young woman had disappeared. He rushed to the nearest government building he saw. A bank. He looked at the name. _Need to remember that._ The doors to the Royal and General swung shut behind him.

* * *

Alex walked into the sergent's office at 0449. He was early, but did not show any signs of discomfort. Alex stood at attention. There was nothing else he could do. He would have to wait for the sergent, and if the Sergent made him wait too long and become late, Alex would get the blame. On the other hand, if Alex moved with out being asked, he would get in trouble for being disrespectful. Not that he wouldn't mind. He just didn't want to see any extra "taxes" on his pay-check. It was about the pay after all.

In this case though, it was his ... freedom.

0455

The sergent barely spared Alex a glance.

"Yes?"

"I'm reporting...sir"

The sergent heard the pause. And he did not like it. "I see. What about cutting your mop?"

"I could not do that ... sir."

Again with the pause. For some reason that infurted the sergent more than loud men or rude superiors. It was, he saw it as, blatent disrespect. Disrespect he would not stand for.

"So? Do you expect me to do it for you?"

"No ... sir"

"Go to the mess hall, then report to the gate. You have three munites."

"Thank you." The assanin was out the door.

* * *

Alex ran as fast as he dared to the mess hall.

180 seconds. He clicked on the clippers, conveniently left on a table. What should he do? He had no idea how to clip hair, much less on his own head.

160 seconds. He settled on the fastest and simplest. That would work. He quickly started.

123 seconds. Alex quickly shut off the clippers and ran out of the mess hall. The soldiers were heading there now.

95 seconds. Alex ignored them. He sprinted across the parade ground, heading toward the gate.

86 seconds. He was blindsided. Or an attempted blindside. Quickly Alex stepped out of the way, and a man was sent sprawling.

74 seconds. Alex lept over the man. He had no time to deal with this!

60 seconds. He had one minute. He skidded to a halt in front of the gate.

54 seconds. The Sergent stormed forward. Alex tensed. What the hell?

40 seconds. The gate began to open. A nondescript car rolled through.

30 seconds. Half the parade ground was full of soldiers, stand aimlessly.

25 seconds. The doors automatically un-locked.

20 seconds. Alex reached for the door and opened it.

10 seconds. A blast of cool air hit him in the face.

5 seconds. Alex was sitting back in the seat. Door closed, buckle on.

Mrs. Jones looked at him. She glanced at her wach.

"Well. You did cut that close."

The car pulled out.

* * *

(1) WC= Water Closet, bathroom, _tylet_

**Lady Voldmort won. most of you didn't count the author's note. (Here is an approate Scorpia cookie. (Sorry, it's the only "bad guy" cookie I had around. Never was a HP fan))**


	16. THe Offer

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I know I have been missing for a few, but I hope this makes up for it. Enjoy._

* * *

Jack hesitated. This morning when she had gotten ready, she was excited. But after that emotion came crushing guilt and shame. For it was Alex who had gotten her here. Indirect as it was, she was now standing before the doors of 10 Downing Street because of him. At first she hated her job. Soon, however, she grew to love it. It had been a simple means of escape. After Alex had simply vanished from her life. She in no way blamed him, she though as she entered the building, how could she? He had given his childhood, innocence for them. And now she was one of them. She held back a sob. She could not be weak. She would be strong. For him. For everything he stood for. And everything that it had cost him. She opened the door and walked into COBRA.

The letters were passed out. Jack read her's and felt sick. How could they do this? It was so cruel, so cold and malicious. And then to turn this on children! Jack's rant was interrupted by Mrs. Jones entering the room. The two had become close friends after Alex…died. But looking at Tulip's face Jack knew something was wrong.

"We have our informant." she announced.

Jack leaned forward. She was speculating who it could be. An assanin. That was always interesting in Jack's line of work. In anyone's really.

The first thing she saw was the hair. It was fair, like Alex's. But it was close cropped. A smooth face that did not gave away any hit of emotion. Honestly, Jack would be surprised if he could give any. Clear, hard brown eyes. Alex's were always haunted, like he had seen too much. But this man looked like his job description. Blank. His pale skin seemed almost sallow in the bad lighting of the room. As he shifted, Jack was handcuffs on his wrists. His face fit something in her memory. She felt it. A whisper, a soft floating breath. And it came into shape. _Yassen?_ But he was dead. She had to watch the autopsy. That still made her shudder.

Her mouth moved on its own accord. "Yassen?" The whisper seemed to fill the room.

The cold eyes slid over and held hers. Jack shuddered. There was nothing there. The eyes locked onto each member of the table. If Jack didn't know any better, she would say he was memorizing them. But he hadn't looked at them long enough, to memorize each aspect, the parts that stood out.

"Shall we proceed?"

The assanin followed Tulip to a chair farther down from Jack. She had started to call him Yassen in her mind. It fit. Yassen sat down and looked at his paper. Then he turned in around so he was looking at it upside down. Finally he flipped the paper over and held it up to the light. No one had moved. He set the paper down.

"You do not need me." He had a soft Russian accent. Jack wondered how long he had been living in Russia to get it. She had lived here for the better part of ten years and still talked like an American.

"Everything you need is before you. They have given you the time, the date, even..." He paused and looked at the page. "The location. Brookland School. You do not need me."

"On the contrary, Yassen," here Tulip paused and shot a glance at Jack, "we do. We need to know Scorpia's motives."

A pale finger pointed to the page. "Money. They state it here. And they also want the control of this…Alex Rider. Give them both and you will be fine."

"We cannot."

Yassen raised a brow. "Really? You cannot. Or you do choose not?"

"We cannot. First the money. The amount is astronomical."

"What about Rider. Turn him over. Surely he is not worth the lives of three thousand school children."

Jack had enough. Alex had done so much, and he did not deserve to disrespected. "He's dead." She rasped out.

Yassen looked untroubled. "That makes it even more simple."

"How so?" The director of police snapped.

"Send them Rider's head."

Tulip looked sick. Jack felt the room sway. Alex's head? She couldn't…three thousand kids…even then, would Scorpia back down?

"Would it stop them?" A man dressed in military splendor looked as if the words tasted sour coming out of his mouth.

"It is possible."

"So you can't guarantee it."

Yassen glared at the man. "I never said I could guarantee anything. But it might get you better results."

Jack to a deep breath. How could she say this? "Even if the plan would work…Yassen," she addressed the man directly. "We have…no head."

"That's bloody brilliant! Will a finger work then?" The military man looked livid. "We can cut of same street hoodlum's. There are plenty of those."

Yassen ignored the man. He studied Jack for a moment. "Why is there no head?"

"Alex went missing a few years ago. We think he's dead." Jack tried not to cry.

"Well that does complicate things a little."

"The money?" a woman down the table looked half hopeful.

"It was simply a way to make Rider seem like the easier thing to give up. The simpler trade. They do not really want it."

The room was silent. Then a man spoke from the end of the room. "We can give them yours." Jack felt puzzled. He pointed at Yassen. "You said you could be no help. Maybe you could help us by donating your head. You don't look like Rider, but we can change that after you're dead."

"I would prefer to keep my head intact. Besides, my body is my personal property."

The man looked at Yassen greedily. "Being as the government holds all your personal property, we own you. We can take your head and you could have no say in it."

"And I could dismember you right now and you would have no say in it."

Tulip slammed her hand on the table. "Do we have any other options?"

Jack didn't want to see Yassen die. He hadn't done anything. Well actuality he had done a lot of things… Get your head on target Jack, she snapped to herself. Speak before it's too late.

"He could do surveillance around the school. He's worked with Scorpia, so he knows any weakness they may have. And he could kill them for us." Jack looked at the man. "Right? If we pad you, you could kill them for us?"

"I assure you the price will be less than the one Scorpia has offered you."

Tulip looked relived. "It's settled then. We'll move you back to…"

"No. I need to be near the school."

"We have no one you can…"

"He can stay with me." It took a few seconds for Jack's head to catch up with her mouth. Again.


	17. Tea and Trouble

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I know I have been missing for a few, but I hope this makes up for it. Again. and again... Enjoy._

* * *

Jack kept her eyes on the road. The car hummed along, but the occupants were silent. Jack stole a glance at the person sitting next to her. She tried to figure out who the strange person was , not bothering to be discreet, as she was sure that he had already figured her out. American, female, mid to late twenties, red hair, green eyes. But if she was honest, mostly late. The man sitting next to her was a real mystery. Fair, brown eyes, Russian (assuming the accent was his real one), pale, almost feminine lashes. A glint of metal. Jack pulled on the wheel. She had drifted into the opposite lane. It was so hard! She had learned to drive in America , and driving in Britain was a nightmare some days. She couldn't think, let alone listen to music or talk on a mobile on days like today. After all, taking in an assassin? Not an everyday job. Not even in her line of work.

Almost sighing in relief, Jack pulled onto the familiar street. After a few moments of parking the car, parrell mind you, in the curb, she shut off the ingnition_._ She clicked off her belt. God, this was awkward.

"Well, we'd better go inside."

The man left the car, opened the truck, and took out his bag. Jack was clambering out as he walked up the steps to the front door. He stood there for a second.

Jack leaned into the car, reaching for her bag. "Go on! Get inside!"

The man stood at the door. "I have no key."

Jack bushed. "Sorry. I forgot. Here." She tossed him her ring. He caught it easily. Jack ran up the walk and slipped inside after the man.

She tossed her bag on the hall table and crossed into the kitchen. She grabbed a mug, filled it with water, plopped in a tea bag, and stuck it into the microwave. She turned to the man.

"Want anything? Tea? Coffee? Water?"

The man shook his head. The microwave beeped, and Jack grabbed the mug. She settled herself at the table.

"Grab a seat." She gestured to a chair. "Plenty of room."

The man sat at the edge of his chair. He looked ready to bolt. Jack frowned.

"Look, Yasssen?" The man looked at her. "You're safe here. You don't need to fight anymore. Plus, you are breaking a very important rule."

The man shifted uneasily in his seat. Jack leaned forward in her chair.

"You must relax."

Jack actually saw the man freeze. He didn't draw a breath. His eyes were wide and he looked shocked. Then he grinned.

"You had me worried for a second." He shrugged. "I thought I was about to be shot."

Jack beamed. "Don't worry, ok? You're fine with me. You can do your surveillance, shoot some baddies, and be out of here in no time. I can even try to get you off scot-free."

Jack held out her hand.

Yassen leaned forward, and shook. "You have a deal Ms. Starbright."

* * *

Danny Cook swaggered across the lot. Brookland was his. Or he liked to think so. An eightieth of the school's population followed him. This was not saying much about him. Danny smiled at a girl who passed him with a wide birth. She shuddered and quickened her pace. He dug into his pocket a pulled out a crushed fag. It was his last one, and he saw he was running low. He cured loudly. A teacher, Miss Bedfordshire, glared at him, but he ignored her. He had more important things to do. How to get money? There were a few younger years that he had not met yet. Now could be the perfect time. Danny saw a man standing by the gate of the school. A fuzz? Unless he was undercover, witch Danny doubted. For once his drug tampered brain was right. Danny swaggered up to the gate. The man looked at him briefly. The man's eyes scared Danny, but he would never admit it. His brother was Michel Cook, king of the school. Danny would show this man that this was Danny's turf…

"Hey!"

The man looked up. "Hello"

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for my niece."

"Really?"

"Yes. Do you go here? I need to know where the front office is."

"No."

"Alright. It was nice talking to you."

The man made to step around Danny.

"You can't do that."

"Do I need a pass?"

"You can't come in here."

"I beg your pardon?" The man's voice hadn't changed, but Danny felt a shiver of fear. He shoved it down.

"This is my turf. You can't come here."

A voice behind them spoke. "This is a public school. Let him in Danny."

Danny spun around with a glare. "Shut up Harris. Bugger off."

* * *

Tom felt tired. It had been a long day at school. His arm ached. But it did that every day, he thought glumly. He gathered his things and headed toward the gate. He would walk home. Maybe he would stop by Jack's house. She had a meeting yesterday, and wouldn't answer any of his calls. But she was most likely busy, he pacified himself. No need to get nervous. He quickened his pace when he saw a man by the gate. The fair hair stood out sharply ageist the slate gray fence. Tom was approaching when Danny Cook made his appearance. Tom begin to get worried. The stranger had no business at this school, but with Danny it was probably bad business. Tom touched his pocket. It was still there. He hurried across the lot toward the two figures. Tom heard the tail of the conversation, and his sprits sank.

"…to pick up my niece."

It went down hill from there. Tom got right behind Danny before he spoke.

"This is a public school. Let him in Danny."

Not the brightest of sentences, but it did the trick.

Danny turned. Said something, but Tom wasn't listening. The man looked very uncomfortable. Tom grinned. No kidding. "Danny, get the hell out of here."

Danny spit on the ground. "This is not over Harris."

He stacked off.

The man looked at Tom for a second. "Is that your welcoming committee?"

Tome shook his head. "Not usually. Today was just your luckily day."

"What do you have in your pocket?"

Slipping his hand in, Tom proudly revealed them. They glinted in the sun.

"Handcuffs? Are you even allowed?"

"Well, I'm kind of part of a patrol around here." Tom didn't explain the part that the patrol was the first in the gym that day, or spent weeks helping Tom search for Alex, or set up a cot in the office when Tom couldn't stand his parents' shouting anymore.

"Humm…"

"I'm going to a friend's house. Do you want to come?"

They started off.

"Will that be wise?"

"Sure, Jack loves visitors."

The man paused, then laughed. "I am staying at her house."

Tom skidded to a stop. What? He felt his face heating up.

The man laughed again "Not that way. I'm a kind of exchange student, if you will. For the military."

Tom nodded. That made more sense than, well, other situations. He touched his 'cuffs for good luck.

"I'm Tom Harris."

The man nodded. "I'm Yassen."

Tom waited for a few seconds, but nothing else was forth coming. "Alright. Off to Jack's house." He took a few steps forward.

Yassen nodded. "Off to Jack's house."

* * *

FOR THE COFUSED MASSES: Alex is Yassen


	18. London Woes

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I know I have been missing for a few, but I hope this makes up for it. Again. and again... Enjoy._

* * *

The meeting had been short. Too short in Tom's opinion.

They had just arrived at Jack's house when Tom's mobile rang. He held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Tom, it's Cathy. We need you down at the station."

Tom flipped the mobile shut. He looked at Yassen.

"Tell Jack that I'm sorry, but something came up. I need to go."

Tom turned to leave, but Jack was already on the door step. Tom shifted uncomfortably as she walked toward them.

"Tom! Good to see you. I need help with the TV…"

Tom held up his hands. "Look Jack I really have to go. Cathy called. It has to be important."

Jack frowned. "Fine. But Yassen can go with you. He has nothing better to do."

"Actually…" It was Yassen's turn to look uncomfortable.

"He would love to come." Jack glared at Yassen. "I'm going to a meeting. Have fun."

They walked along the road, Tom muttering angrily. Alex tuned him out. Inside, he was packing. Jack thought he was dead. Good. She didn't recognize him. Also good. Tom being alive? How the bloody hell did that happen?

Alex looked at his former best friend. How old did he seem now, that Tom treated him like someone Jack's age? He sighed. This assignment was turning out to be difficult. The worst part was, literally his head was on the line. Alex would need to get into Brookland quickly, and quietly. Going in as a teacher would be bad. So would acting as help. The school had a tough mandatory background check he had to pass. He would have to go in as a student. Could Tom help him?

"Tom, could you help me with something?"

"What?" Tom sounded annoyed.

Alex pretended to be uncomfortable, and shifted his weight a few times. "I'm not as old as Jack thinks I am."

That got Tom attention. "Really? How old are you?"

"You know that residents of the UK can voluntary enlist into military service when they are 16 with parental consent?"

"Yes."

Alex pretended to be relieved. "There you have it."

Tom looked shocked. "You're sixteen?"

Alex nodded. "Yes."

Tom looked worried. "Is it legal? After all, you're lying to a government agent."

Alex resisted the urge to laugh. A government agent? But then he remembered that was the common term for police officers as well.

"So, you're an agent." How strange the word felt, coming out of his mouth! And he had been one so long ago. "Where is the station?"

Tom pointed at a building across the street. "Here we are."

When Alex walked in, the first thing he saw was the sectary. His breath caught. She was twenty five, perhaps. Fit, and trim. But her most disconcerting feature was her movements. Alex saw it at once.

"Yassen, this is Cathy."

Alex smiled and shook the woman's hand.

She glared at him. "I have heard of someone named Yassen."

Tom beamed. "Do you know each other?"

Cathy sneered in disgust. "The Yassen I heard of was a murderer. And he is dead."

Alex felt his mask slip on. He looked coldly at the woman. "Do I look dead to you, Israeli?"

"Would you like me to fix that Ruski?"

Tom stepped between them. "Hold on. You didn't call me down to argue with a stranger, did you?"

Cathy shrugged. "Fine. Meet with Nick. He's in the back. "

Tom left the room, Alex hot on his heels.

Cathy grabbed his arm. "Listen Ruski. I'm watching you. "

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the Mossad. "

With that Alex left the room.

The projector wheezed in the back of the room. Nick banged on it with his fist.

"I know it's not perfect, but it's all we've got."

Nick turned to the screen, meter-stick in hand.

"Here is our problem." The stick tapped an older looking man, in his late forties. He was obviously homeless. He stood in the crowded room of a metro station. The strange part was, even in his decrepit state, he was surrounded by people. He had seamlessly slotted himself into the crowd. And he stood still, doing nothing.

"Here's how he works." Nick tapped the figure on the screen. "He stands there for hours."

"Then," Nick paused to change the screen, "he gets a pick up." A younger woman approached the vagabond. Nick rapidly began to change the slides.

The woman approached the man. She bumped into him. She twisted away, shoving into another man in a long trench coat. The commuter shoved her rudely back, sending her stumbling into the homeless man. The young woman hurried away

Nick rubbed his face. "We have been looking for her for days." He turned to the two men. "What do you think?"

Tom shrugged. "Once you nab her, she'll spill. We just need to find her. If she is this involved, she must be addicted."

Nick stared. "What do you mean involved?"

"A drug mule. She has the drugs, gives them to the man, and the man sells them."

Nick nodded. It made perfect sense. "Of course! She's a mule. In and out, easy."

"No."

Nick turned to look at the other man. What had Tom called the guy? Yassen? Some Russian name. "Look mate, this is our job. What are we overlooking?"

It was a rhetorical question. Everyone in the room knew it. Nick had no idea how the man had enough balls to answer.

"She's not involved. Look."

He reached over and clicked back a few slides. "She bumps the dealer. He drops the drug into her pocket."

Click. The dealer's hand slips into the girl's jacket pocket. "The buyer walks into her."

Click. The commuter. Now that the pane was frozen, Nick could see the commuter's hand reaching into the girl's jacket pocket. "He trades the drug for money, and shoves her back at the dealer."

Click. She was shoved into the dealer. "The dealer grabs the money, lets her go, and neither the dealer nor the buyer are connected."

Click. All three are seen going their separate ways. They would never see each other again.

Tom nodded . "Good call. Now how do we get him?"

Tom left the building two hours later. The sun was beginning to set, but the moon was nowhere near rising, and the streets were filled with a murky glow. He was frustrated. "You solved it in three minutes. We have been on that case for months. And even after you explained it we spent more two hours getting nothing done."

Yassen shrugged. "You know how he works. That will make it easier."

"Sure." Tom snorted. "And we will spend five months deciding how exactly to nab him, by which time, he will leave the country!"

"What would you do?"

Tom sighed. "Honestly, the easiest thing would be to kill him, but he'd just get life. Besides he can smell a cop coming from a mile away. The closest we every got was an undercover, who walked past him, this close." Tom stretched out him arm to tap Yassen's shoulder. "But the undercover agent was busy, and couldn't nab him."

Tom yawned . "While that was fun, I need to get back home. Have to keep my grades up so I can officially join the force."

It was nine in the morning. Alex slipped down the metro , mingling with the morning rush hour. He spotted the dealer at once. A grubby man, dressed in a ragged long coat and fingerless gloves. His hair was long and greasy, hanging in his face. Alex settled himself of a bench holding a cup of coffee. He wouldn't drink it. It was almost as greasy as the man he was watching. Over the next two hours Alex saw at least five transactions. Possibly more, but Alex constantly had to move. Just because the target could stay still didn't meant that he could.

At eleven o'clock, Alex made his move. He remembered how close Tom had said the undercover had gotten. An arm's length away. More than close enough. Alex walked toward the target, his hand tightening in his pocket.

Tom glanced at his mobile. It was rare that he was ever contacted in school.


	19. The weight of knowlage

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I have been mia for 2 months. I'm sorry. It was the KGB. Nothing I could have done!_

* * *

Tom glanced at his mobile. It was rare that he was ever contacted in school. Sometimes Cathy wanted him to work during lunch. That was fine. But to be contacted by Nick? That never happened. Tom shoved his mobile back into his pocket. He raised his hand. The teacher glanced up.

"Yes, Tom?" Ms. Harper smiled slightly at him. Tom frowned. He hated all the apologetic looks. They weren't the ones who shot him!

"There's a problem at the station. Could I go? I'm not sure how long it will take."

"Of course you will need to catch up. "

"Not a problem." And he was out the door.

Three minutes later Tom arrived at the station. Cathy met him at the door. She looked furious.

"Your little Russian friend is in over his head!" She snapped.

"What?"

Nick appeared behind Cathy. "No time to talk. We have a murder on our hands."

Tom sat in silence, as did the rest of the team, as they watched Yassen move through the station. The projector flickered, casting a blue glow over the room. Nick turned to Tom.

"Do you have any idea where this guy came from? You mentioned some kind of military exchange program, but the UK does not have a deal with Russia for that kind of partnership. "

Rick, an older grizzled member of the team, the EMT, spoke. "He's using SAS tactics. What made you think he was from Russia?"

Tom shrugged. "He told me."

Cathy glared. "I could have told you I was the queen of England. Would you believe me then?"

"No." Tom was angry now. "I trusted him, alright? Because he kinda…reminded me…of Alex."

The room was still.

Nick placed a hand on Tom's arm. "Listen kid. Listen well. Could Alex kill in cold blood? Could he murder?"

Tom froze. In his mind's eye he saw Greif, Rothman, and Cray. Then there was Nile, Drevin, McCain. He swallowed.

"I'm not sure."

Nick let go of Tom's shoulder. "Your friend was fourteen! How can you not be sure?"

Tom shook his head. "Never mind. What's the problem?"

Cathy snapped her teeth together. "He murdered the dealer."

"What?"

"He walked up to the dealer, put his arm around the dealer's shoulder, walked him up to the street, into an alley, and threw his body into a dumpster. Sometime between first touching the man and the alley, your friend snapped our suspect's neck!"

"I swear! I had no idea Yassen would do that!" Tom shuddered. "Look, I can talk to him. Maybe get a confession?"

Something was bothering Tom. He couldn't grasp it though. _Yassen…Alex…murder…drugs…Jack…_ Somehow it was all connected. But right now Tom didn't have all the pieces. He rubbed his forehead. He almost had it! _Why was it so hard? What did this Yassen have in connection…Scopria…Italy…Alex…Cray…_ Tom froze. "His name isn't Yassen." He felt sick. He swallowed hard. He couldn't cry, not now. He swallowed again. "I think…"

Cathy looked at him sadly. _Oh God. She _knew_. She knew from the moment he came in. She didn't have the heart to tell me._ At that moment Tom didn't know whether to thank or curse the Mossad agent. She nodded now.

"Should I tell them Tom?"

"No, I will."

"Tell us what?" Nick growled.

Tom closed his eyes. "Yassen is… Alex."

* * *

Alex walked toward the station. He knew Tom was there. He was not going to confess. No. That would, _might¸_come_. _Hopefully not, if he could help it. The school had been quiet today. That frustrated Alex. But he pushed it out of his mind. The local police had probably found the body of the drug dealer. They police had CCTV all over London, so he was on film. He hoped Tom didn't find out. Tom might figure it out. All of it. But Alex didn't but too much faith in Tom's ability. He wanted to become a cop for Pete's sake. Bloody hell. Alex opened the door of the station. It was dark. No lights were on, yet the door was unlocked. Something was wrong for them to be this careless. He saw a flickering light at the end of the hall. He walked towards it. He heard murmurings inside the room. Alex grabbed the knob and pushed the door open.

The whole station was sitting in the room. The projector was shooting a blue square on the wall, putting the room in sharp contrast. The blue of the wall, the black shadows, and the pale people seated there. He hesitated In the doorway. Alex felt it. Tom's expression only confirmed it. They knew.


	20. Flashes

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_Here is another chapter. Happy "Pi Day" and St. Patrick's Day!_

**_Erin go bragh!_**

* * *

He stood in the doorway. Cathy glared at him.

"Come in." The man named Nick had spoken.

Alex walked in and shut the door. He leaned against it, desperate for escape. But of course, he didn't show it.

Tom rubbed his face. He looked worn.

"So, Alex." He stopped. What was there to say? _We'd better catch up! What have you been doing when I thought you were dead for years? Killing? What a fascinating job! Did you manage to hunt down the bastards who shot me?_

Alex looked at him. Tom was beginning to become unnerved.

Nick coughed. Tom looked desperately at him.

"So...Alex...did you...by any chance..." Tom stuttered off aqwardily.

Alex didn't move.

Cathy slammed her hand on the table. Tom jumped.

"What do you want?"

Alex closed his eyes. "To get out of the country. I'm doing a job for MI6."

Cathy snorted. "I thought you quit."

Alex shrugged, his eyes still closed. "I didn't have much of a choice."

Nick abruptly spoke up. "Why did you kill our only lead."

"Tom told me to."

Tom was taken aback "I did not!"

"He said ' Honestly, the easiest thing would be to kill him, but he'd just get life.'"

Tom paled. "You though t I was serous?"

"Don't you usually charge for that kind of thing?" Cathy spat out.

"Consider this an act of charity."

The room was silent.

"How the hell are we going to break this to Jack?"

Jack came home as the sun was setting. She wondered how Yassen had done today. Had he gotten any leads? She hoped so. Wanda had asked Jack why she had taken the killer in. She thought about that as she walked in to the house. She saw Tom and Yassen bent over the table. She smiled. In truth, it was because Yassen reminded her of Alex. She walked in to the room.

"Hello Jack."Tom smiled weakly at Jack. "How was your day?"

Jack spin around. "I got all my things done at work, so I'm free tonight!"

"Great."

"Tom, what's wrong."

"We found Alex"

Jack sank to the floor. Her hand covered her mouth. Tears gathered in her eyes.

"Oh, Tom!" Tears ran down her face. "Is he alright? Is he coming back?"

Tom paused. What the hell was he supposed to say? He's right here!

Jack watched as Yassen walked toward her and pulled her up, and into a hug. She leaned on his shoulder and cried. He rubbed her back. "I'm sorry Jack. I never really left you."

Jack hiccupped. She pulled out of Alex's hug. She rubbed her eyes. "Will you stay?"

Alex shook his head. "I can't. I'll visit though. If MI6 let me."

Jack pulled him into a hug."It's alright Alex."

She sat him down in a chair. "I'll forgive anything and everything. But. Only if you have remorse. I can't stand the thought of a cold hearted, unfeeling killer in my house."

Jack watched in shock as Alex stood from the table and walked toward the door. It closed behind him with a slam.

* * *

A little more emotional than I am used to. I found harder to write than when Alex smashed Goat in the mess hall. ( that was fun to write!)

Playlist:

I will survive

Dancing in the dark

Danny Boy

Come out ye Black and Tans

Born to Run


	21. AWOL

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I've decited to add some qoutes to this chaptrer:_

_From Valdimir Putin: "__Anyone who doesn't regret the passing of the Soviet Union has no heart. Anyone who wants it restored has no brains.__", "__We shall fight against them, throw them in prisons and destroy them.__", "__You must obey the law, always, not only when they grab you by your special place.__"_

_"_За родину_"_

* * *

Jack sat in shock at the table, cold tea cup in hand. Tom had left long ago, muttering about drugs and Cathy. There was a puddle on her table from the tears. They didn't fall anymore. She had run dry. She blew into another tissue. There was an overflowing pile in the bin next to her. The phone on the hook seemed to look dejectedly at her. _Pick me up!_ Jack wiped her nose on her sleeve. She stood and picked up the phone. What else could she do?

"Tulip, it's Jack. I need to talk….about Alex."

Mrs. Jones sat in shock. Somehow, Jack knew.

"Tulip? Are you there? Tulip?"

"I'm here."

"Well today I found out that _Yassen _ is in fact _Alex_ and no one bothered to tell me!"

"To correct you."

"What?"

Mrs. Jones sighed. "You called him Yassen Jack, not me."

"But..but.."

"What's wrong Jack? This is the emergency number."

"Um… Alex took off."

"When?"

"About two hours ago."

"Alright." Mrs. Jones rubbed her head. "We need to get some units in. Do you know what he's up to?"

"No." Jack sounded panicked now. "I just said if he had not remorse for the people he killed, he couldn't stay in my house."

"No!" Mrs. Jones felt her stomach drop. "Jack, we have no _idea_ who he killed. Or _if_ he killed anyone for that matter. "

"I'm sorry."

Mrs. Jones sighed. "It's aright Jack. We'll get Alex back."

She hung up.

Mrs. Jones sat for a second. The rain hit on the window, the room was dark. Lightning flashed outside the room. _Like the night Alex vanished._

Mrs. Jones picked up the phone again. Time to call in backup. There were some things that MI6 needed help with some times. And now? They needed all the help Mrs. Jones could get.

* * *

Wolf held the book in his hands. It was clever, to hide a gun in a book. He should have thought of that himself. The back of _War and Peace_ had been torn off, revealing a hollowed spaced to conceal a gun. He wondered what Cub was doing now.

Snake burst into the cabin, starting Eagle awake.

"Cub is AWOL."


	22. Wander

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

_I would like to request a moment silence for the innocents of the Moscow bombing. There are many people in the world who do jobs more dangerous than Alex's to keep us all safe._

Товарищи, вы в наших сердцах и умах людей. Ты должен быть отомщена.

* * *

The sergeant looked at the men assembled before him. K Unit, two men from the ASIS, and a CIA agent. The best of the best. The Sergeant didn't trust the men, but there was no time for that now.

"Here it is men. One target, and you one week to capture him. You have all worked with him. He has been AWOL for two days now. Time is of the essence." The Sergeant sighed "You will bring him in with any means necessary."

The sergeant left the room. Texas opened his file first. "How do we know who he is? No photograph, no description. "

Ben rubbed his eyes. "It's Alex."

"The bloke from space?"

"The very one."

The CIA agent looked up. "Space?"

Texas nodded. "Yep. He was the one who blew up the Russian oil tycoon's space hotel."

The CIA agent nodded. "We picked him up half way through."

"And you sent him back!" Everyone was surprised by Snake's outburst.

"They sent him back at Point Blanc." Wolf said.

"They always sent him back." Texas muttered.

Eagle shook his head. "None of that matters now. He is a target that we need to retrieve."

Wolf pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Safely."

"By any means necessary." The room looked at the CIA agent.

"We can take no risks."

* * *

Jack crammed another Digestive into her mouth. Tom looked on with a detached expression and sighed. Jack swallowed loudly.

"So, any leads?"

It had been three days. Tom shook his head.

"No. But backup is coming, later tonight."

Jack shrugged. "right. Like backup will help. Like they ever help. All they do is act busy and get nothing done!"

"You yelling Jack."

"I don't care! They never help! He's gone now! Forever!"

Tom sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

Jack shoved in a Flake.

* * *

Alex walked into the burger bar. He ordered the cheapest item, grabbed the bag, and sat in a seat. He ate in silence for a few minutes. A group of giggly girls walked in. He ducked his head. _Do not notice me. I am not here._ He continued to think blank thoughts. The girls walked by. He relaxed. Another group walked in. _Lord help me._ He had no idea there were this many girls in this part of London. If he had, he never would have come.

"You look lonely." A girl stood before him.

_Damn._

"I'm fine."

She looked pointedly at the empty chair across from him. "You get stood up?"

"No. I come here to eat alone, away from annoying questions."

The girl cocked her head. "Family problems?"

Alex looked at her. "When did nosing into people's personal problems become an acceptable past time for today's troubled youth?"

The girl blinked. "I'm Meg."

Alex did not bother with a response.

"When someone tell their name, you're supposed to tell yours."

"So I gathered. But I have no desire to tell you my name, or continue talking to you. You have wasted my time."

The girl, Meg, glared at him. "On the contrary, _you_ have wasted _my_ time. I'm trying to strike up a conversation."

"And you have failed."

Meg blinked.

Alex felt a slight tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Meg was in shock. Honestly, she was trying to be friendly to the guy. Unlike the oranges at the counter, she wasn't giggling or acting flirtatious in any way. And this stranger blocked every move she made, and now sat there smirking at her. She made a decision. She plopped in the chair. The stranger looked surprised. Meg smiled winningly at him. He looked shocked. _One for me._ She unwrapped her burger and bit into it.

"This is the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten!"

"But you come here often."

She froze mid-chew.

He gestured to her shirt. The burger bar's name was written across the front in neat block print.

Meg felt a blush rise to her face.

"Do you get a worker's discount?"

Meg glared at the guy. "I don't think that's any of you business."

"And my family life was yours?"

_Touché._

She shrugged and took another bite. They ate in silence for a while.

"You're friends are leaving."

"Oh," Meg looked up.

It was true. They huddled at the door, waiting to leave. She looked at her best friend. Then she smiled, and winked. Her friend grinned, nodded, and ushered the rest of the posse put of the building.

"What was that about?"

She turned back to the guy. "Nothing."

"You are lying."

She blinked again. Meg grabbed the burger and bit off another mouthful.

"Why did you not go with your friends?"

"I wanted to finish my burger."

"Your friends took their food with them. A burger is simple thing to eat. It does not require anything but your hands and mouth."

"That's what she said."

Meg felt a blush creep up her face again. The guy looked blankly at her.

"I don't understand."

"Never mind."

The guy stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"More questions?"

Meg glared. "I don't know your name."

"And?"

"It's only polite. I ate with you after all."

He started toward the door. She quickly fell instep beside him. He looked at her. "You invited yourself."

"Still!"

They were outside now. The wind blew a crisps wrapper across the road. Meg turned her head to watch its movement. It skittered across the lane and into a gutter.

She turned back. "It's polite."

He nodded. "I'm Alex."

She shook the offered hand.

"Good. Now what do you want to do?"

Alex shrugged.

Meg grinned. "Let's go to a film!"

"It is six thirty on a Saturday night. Surely you have better things to do."

"I have a new friend. His name is Alex." Meg grabbed his arm. "And I am taking him to see a film."

* * *

I thank you all for favouring this story and author.

There is a poll on my page, for the next story. Sadly TBD is drawing to a close.

Please PM me with any personal comments. I will reply to all.

I have started a forum the collects information relevant to the AR fan-dom. Feel free to add factual information.

Fro those of you with out an account:

To vote, simply type VOTE: and the corresponding number in your review. If you pick 3, briefly describe.

To message me, type PM: and the message into your review.

Thank you all.


	23. Scream

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

* * *

Alex wanted to rub his head. Then he wanted to slam the jabbering girl continuously against wall. Hard. Hopefully breaking her neck. Or her back. That would be nice. She spoke on, talking of people and places he had no interest of seeing. He kept a close eye on the man following them. Alex knew he was on the watch list. The Drought would be looking for him too. He sighed. The girl turned to him.

"So. What do you want to see?"

They were a few steps from the cinema. Alex saw the man reach into his jacket. Alex had to move. He hesitated, then grabbed the girl and dragged her into an alley. He shoved her against the brick. The man turned toward them. Alex shoved his mouth roughly onto the girls.

He knew his own description by heart.

_Blond hair_

_Brown eyes_

_Mid to late teens_

_Average height_

_Possibly armed_

_Dangerous under pressured circumstances_

_Travels alone._

By kissing this girl, he removed his most distinguishing characteristic. The man quickly moved on, ignoring the two necking teens.

* * *

Meg panicked. He was shoving his mouth on hers. She thrashed, clawing at his face. _Go for the eyes!_ Her scrabbling hands moved up his face. She yanked his hair. Kicking, she hit his shin. Meg twisted her head away, hitting it on the wall. She swung her head, felt it connect to his head with a satisfying pain to the back of hers. Moving quickly, she sank he teeth into his arm. Growing and whimpering, she hit him with fisted hands. Finally, she hit his weakest point. She staggered back. Tears were streaming down her face. She tripped over a bit of rubbish, and dragged herself into the street.

She sucked in her breath. And screamed. (1)

* * *

P. Crowley hurried into the interrogation room. He setteled himslef infront of the sobbing girl.

He tried to smile, and quickly stopped his weak attempt.

He leand foward.

"What can you tell us about him?"

She looked up, huccping.

"He...he was.... with..... without mer......mer....mercy."

P. Crowley lowered his head into his hands.

* * *

(1)

WHEN ATTACKED, GO FOR THE "ESG" THE EYES, STOMACH, AND GRION. HIT AND BITE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE. DON'T BE FOOLED. IT WILL HURT. BUT NEVER GIVE UP. REMEMBER "ESG" AND YOUR CHANCES OF SURIVIVAL WILL IMPROVE.

* * *

I wrote this for a few reasons. One the lack of using such a diverse, complicated character as Sab seems almost appalling to me. Second, I was in a bad mood and needed to rant. This was the result. I don;t know if I will continue, but any who wants to adopt this plot line is free to message me. i plan on writing maybe one more chapter for this, and may wrap it up then. But this has so much ponenital, I hate to leave it stranded.

There is a poll on my page, for the next story. Sadly TBD is drawing to a close.

Please PM me with any personal comments. I will reply to all.

I have started a forum the collects information relevant to the AR fan-dom. Feel free to add factual information.

For those of you with out an account:

To vote, simply type VOTE: and the corresponding number in your review. If you pick 3, briefly describe.

To message me, type PM: and the message into your review.

Thank you all.


	24. End

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

* * *

It seemed ironic. The planting of the bomb, and the hireling of Jack. The fake threat and all the little scenarios carried out to the letter.

Alan Blunt sighed. It was hard, he supposed, and nowhere near done. He had just exposed Rider for a moment. It had been enough.

The PM had agreed. Rider was dangerous. Not only to the government, but to civilians.

Blunt scanned the paper.

"Effective immediately:

The freelancer known as Rider, Alexander, is now classified as a RED danger to the government of the United Kingdom and its allies. Any and all methods available will be used to bring him under the custody of the law.

He is currently wanted in:

The UK

Kenya

The United States

Indonesia

Australia

Vienna and all countries currently holding any governmental pact with the EU

Any information of his whereabouts may be sent to the above listed countries."

Blunt set down the paper. It had been simple, easy.

The real hunt for Alex Rider had begun.


	25. AN

Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

* * *

Dear Readers,

I am working on the sequel to TBD. It will be a while in coming, but I assure you it will be_ better _than TBD.

A few things...

Most of you are wonder about the title of TBD.

TBD stands of To Be Decided. I never chose a title, so TBD became it. I have no title for the sequel. Suggestions will be great.

It will be written in a different style, and the chapter will (hopefully) much longer.

Leo


	26. AN II

Hello! It's LEO!

I am finishing TBC, the #2 to TBD! And it will be fantastic! I had forgotten about my lovely story until a few days ago. So I'm back for more!


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